


Journals.

by BubblegumCannibal



Series: Raid Team: Cerberus [2]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Fake Grimoires, Gen, Grimiore Entries, Originally Posted on Tumblr, old works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 14:40:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BubblegumCannibal/pseuds/BubblegumCannibal
Summary: The Captain of the crew has had a long journey. Things come and things die... but no one is as tired as the unpaid Guardian who had one death that gave them all their memories back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really like talking about my Guardians, you guys.

I was found in an empty, rotted tomb—could you believe that? The room small and smelled of mold and fresh decay, but… I had no idea if it was man or animal. I still don’t know to this day. The only thing I had was the little sparkle of light from my ghost. Funny that I was frightened when I saw it for the first time. Not once in my life had I ever seen something like  _that._  I didn’t know if it was my mind playing tricks on me or a beast.

Needless to say, it brought me to the beginning of my adventure.

I remember breaking down the tomb’s door and being blinded by the sun once I climbed the stairs, broken and gaped with holes that became difficult to traverse. I thought being in there I had blacked out—I didn’t remember anything of how I got there nor had I remembered who I was. I was simply a drained husk crawling to freedom.

From there on, it was horrifying. Bandits. Murders. Monsters left and right. All of them heavily equipped with weapons I had never seen before, while I was staggering through with an old broadsword and a pistol that only held two bullets left. Nothing to prepare me for the stray bullet that pinged off a building. Straight through the neck.

The first death was… adrenaline inducing. I felt fear and excitement to a peak I had never felt before. I was alive, surrounded by the vultures of marauders picking at my corpse and stumbling back, eye wide and mouth agape. This is what immortality feels like, right? Power—almost sexual. It gives you such an intense want to die that you want to go head first into battle and see how far you make it. By time I came back into mind, once the high had worn off, my hands had been burned from the fire that slaughtered them like plague rats.

“You have the light,” it told me, “you are a guardian—a warlock. This is the power the Traveler bestowed upon you.”

In which I corrected, “This is a curse, not a blessing. No ball can give a witch her power, she just gains from whatever that ball wants to give her.”

That I remember. Power flows through this corpse and it’s been like that for… years? Centuries? I don’t know how long it has been. I don’t even know  _when_  I am now, but I do remember the power and if this thing—this  _ **ball**_  gives me life and light? Then I will bring the dark. My “Light” will cast shadows for me to traverse safely. I will be the creeping feeling enemies feel at night, like a pair of eyes watching from the depths.

I learned that young, when my memories, brief and scattered, returned to me.  _You will force your enemies into your playground, so you have the upper-hand._  Finding my ship, that rusted hunk of junk, was like that. Blinding the enemies to keep them on their toes to drag them into a lightless hell, but when the lights came up, I saw her. Dark skin, clad in purple robes, beautiful as can be.

And she said to me, “Warlocks and Witches are different, but they can learn from one another. You’ve taken your skills and combined them with a warlock’s talent. Take that. Continue to learn. You will become unstoppable.”

And I did… ridding the enemy of Light so I could see in the Dark.


	2. No good.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’d be a liar if I told you I was a good person…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she just wants to be a good person.
> 
> original post date: o9.o8.18

Her ghost had been silent for a while now. A few quips here and there. A curious investigation every so often and a gentle whir to follow. For such a small thing, Galahad seemed to have a lot on his mind… so to speak. Charlii didn’t think twice of it. She enjoyed their quiet moments more than one should, but even now she noticed something was off.

He’d always get on her about expressing her emotions to him. He’d keep their conversations secret from the Vanguard. _Don’t stay so bottled up,_  he’d say,  _it’s not healthy on either of us. **Just talk to me.**_ But now he’s the one shielding himself away in silence. And why? Why close himself off like this?

Charlii glances down at the black orb in her lap, the blue flicker of his optics flashing between blinks as he stared off into the black abyss of stars. He lifts, almost like a little hover from his spot to bump against the windshield of ship with a little click, “It’s time to wash all this space dust off your ship.”

“Is that all you’re going to say to me? It’s been hours and the only thing you’re gonna do is remind me to take my ship in for a cleaning?”

Galahad goes quiet again, turning away from her. Charlli sighs, pulling him back within her fist. In silence she clicks him into place. First a clear casing over the orb then back into the shell she had cleaned and repainted. Black and gold, just like he asked some time ago. Once inside, he floats away from her grip, flexing the shell in a white light as it spreads away from him and clicks back into place. He turns solemnly back to her, his optics lowered away from her in a quiet hum, “We… We need to talk.”

“We have time, Galahad. Two days to be exact.”

“I’ve been thinking… The Traveler chose me to find you. This has been the best six years of my life. Being at your side has been an adventure, but…”

Charlii tilts her head, “…But?”

“I… don’t think the Traveler would be comfortable with your actions.”

“No. You aren’t comfortable with my actions.”

Galahad goes quiet again, “I suppose.”

“Why?”

He settles on the dashboard before her, still quiet for another passing moment, “At the beginning, things were fresh. I knew my dedication to finding you would be difficult, but I was wrong. Your excitement fueled me. It…” He pauses, blinking quietly, “it gave me a reason because you were happy, I was always happy. _But then you found out who you were._ ”

Charlii flinched. Forbidden knowledge sat unspoken in her mind. For days, she spent time forcing her memories back with atrocious methods of self-destruction. Suicide. Purposeful death by Cabal, Vex, Fallen, Taken… and _Outlaws_. They were more excited to help her with endeavors impossible to do within the city. She had a feeling Galahad wouldn’t take it too kindly… but it was the only way. If Exos could do it, so could humans.

And sadly, it was a method that worked.

“I wasn’t a good person then. Never was. I spent _years_ hunting my own to not die to the hands of other witch hunters. Watched many burn at the stake because of what we found.” The warlock huffed, “So many innocent people have died at my hands and for a moment I was free of those thoughts.”

Her Ghost clicked his shell together once again, “Then why go back to who you were rather than perfect who you are _now_?”

“Because we’re bound to return to who we once were whether we want to or not. I don’t think the Traveler understands that. It is an _alien_ , of course.”

An alien that doesn’t understand what exactly true good and evil actually is. It picks and chooses guardians from unmarked graves and frees them from the uncomfortable limbo they spent centuries in. But are they really chosen based on their credibility? That’s what the Speaker used to say. _Chosen for their excellence and kindness throughout their lives._ But… it’s a veil, isn’t it? Something to soothe the masses. A few soldiers sprinkled into the mix. Some officers that have excelled through time in legends… however the rest of them? Some ex-convicts. Bounty hunters. Mercenaries. Kind in heart, yet dangerously evil by the standards left behind by time itself.

Galahad’s optic lowers and Charlii cradles him in her hands to lift the small AI closer to her, “Despite my actions, you are still important to me. You gave me a second chance, and I will not allow that to fall apart. Whatever my actions do to hurt you, I don’t mean it. There are some things you just can’t stop yourself from doing… however, I can protect you. I can ensure hundreds fall if you were to be hurt… or worse.”

_But I can’t change… but for you, I’ll try._


	3. Memory Hunter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original post date: 12.14.18

“When will we go back?”

In my heart, I felt pain. The child that lay in my bed would barely sleep at my side. She’d fidget and turn until she caught my attention and we’d sit up all night staring at one another as I’d dodge questions about everything. “Back to where? France?”

She nodded, “You look happy when you talk about Paris. Will we go one day?”

The room is quiet for a moment. I can feel my body burning, but I’m not sure why, instead I sigh and run my fingers through coarse brown hair, “One day. After I’m done with working here. Then we can leave this place forever,  _mon lapin._  We’ll never have to look back.”

The girl lay silent again before turning her back on me. From the light outside our window, her brown skin shone with a gentle, beautiful glow. She’s beautiful, ignoring the sight of her sadness, that is… and she’s mine.

My gorgeous little girl…

Centuries have passed since then and I have done what has been labeled as forbidden.  _I learned._  Or more so, I learned about  _her._  It was an accident at the beginning, I swear to you. I slipped while on a mission and went falling into an abyss I couldn’t escape. And when I collided with hard stone, I was stuck in some murky dream that almost sealed my fate as a Guardian. I saw who I was before all of this. I learned of a past forbidden to us… I learned about  _me_ and  _her._

The Speaker preached about how the past should simply stay there. We were brought back to this new, terrifying world as a way to redeem ourselves and prove that we deserved our second chances—but we were never told exactly  _what_ we were and  _why_ this silent god brought us back. Yet one question about it—“Why us? Why not allow us to know who we are?” and you were warned the first time.

“That life doesn’t matter,” he told me. “You’re here now because the Traveler saw hope in you.  _Do not bring this up again_.” And if you pushed, his words became more and more aggressive until he’d ignore you outright. He never spoke to me. No greetings in passing through the Tower’s halls… just silence behind that faceless white mask. I’d only hear his voice when he lied to his people. I just wanted answers to what I had learned and why it left me up at night haunted by the sudden fear of it all.

It’d replay in my head for days. A child, empty but sad, grasping my fingers tightly with hopes of…  _something._  Her words were muffled on some night, but clear on others. However, the look on her face was universal. She was hurt and alone, and I couldn’t do anything about it… Or that was the first thought.

So, I did it again. And again. And again…  _and again._  I wanted to see if it’d happen with more depth. If I died, what would come back? Who would I see? Are they memories? Or is this what my Ghost wanted me to see? Then again, it felt too… abrupt. Every other death on purpose gave me something small, while others through quests and operations through accidents left me up for days. Every last one was a lost memory that left me broken.

I was nothing then… and to the Speaker? I was nothing now—a troublemaker on the edge of being removed from the Last City for my knowledge. But I couldn’t speak up on it. I couldn’t ask anyone else about it in fear of being tossed out on my ass to fend for myself in this new world.

I kept to myself after that. I learned on my own through trial and error. A death here and a moment of intense insomnia there… that is, until someone noticed— ** _Ikora._**  She came to me, stern and focused. Green hues strong and ready. I prepared for everything. I readied myself to have her scold me before sending me out into the wilds… However, it never came. Ikora drug me through the Tower, out of the hangar and deep within the embrace of the closed off garden that rarely sat open. I could remember the touch she left on my arm, soft but taut.

And she sighed, “You need to be a little bit more discreet in your tests, Miss Justice.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She nods and lets me go before returning to that stance every Guardian saw—head up, arms behind her back, and gaze outward to the mountains. “They call it Thanatology among us Warlocks. Our deaths bring…  _visions._  Or that’s what my mentor would tell me. I didn’t believe it until it happened to me.”

I froze. My heart dropped from my chest and over the cliffside. Nevertheless, the feeling melted soon enough one her skinny fingers graced my forearm once again. This time she smiled at me, soft and kind. I didn’t know what to say… I didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t bring this up. The Speaker and Zavala are adamant on keeping Guardians as far away from their pasts as possible to force them to adapt to this world and  _only_  this world. They don’t acknowledge how most of you act when you’re brought here… Almost like how you fought Shaxx when you landed. They ignore the fear and confusion because you know everything around you isn’t right, but at the same time, you don’t know why.” A nod and Ikora steps away to leave, “I can’t tell you that I condone in this practice, but I won’t stop you. Just be safe and avoid asking either of them more about it. Come to me instead.”

Even with that said and Ikora leaving for her post, I stand with the thought of that child once again—do I want to know more?

Yes.

_Yes I do._


	4. Cowboy Holiday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know those grimoire entries from eva? yeah this is one of them. kinda. sorta.  
> original post date: 12.16.18

I never new much about the holidays people celebrated  _before_  the Dawning. New Years. Valentines Day.  _Christmas._  All holidays we’ve made universal without the tethers of unneeded discomforts and the embrace of every culture. I often forget that our Guardians celebrated those holidays when they were young. I often wonder how they’ve adapted to the new world and our new terminology. How do they celebrate it? Do they enjoy a day of gentle joy and festivities? Or is it all new to them?

Christmas was still a holiday when she was young. She told me stories about how she’d watch families roll up pine trees to drag them into their homes and decorate them with ornaments handmade and bought… but that’s all she did. She simply watched. Never participated. She never had a reason to celebrate it, is what she told me.

She said, “Wasn’t worth the time. I had too much work to do.”

And I frowned, of course, no one ever had  _too_ much to do during festivities. “You had too much time for your family, Charlii?”

I remember her expression, quiet and sad. She didn’t look at me for a while before turning to me with a smile, “My family was in Paris. I didn’t get to see them. Trains were still dangerous with being robbed by outlaws and boats made me sick.”

“Outlaws? In Paris!?” I was shocked! I had heard stories of Cowboys and high-speed train robberies, but I had always assumed that most of them were just silly stories that built old colorless holovids from the Americas.

“More like risky criminals who really knew how to jump from a carriage.” I saw her smile for a moment, so warm. It was as if she had been reminiscing of a moment where she had been in a situation. Had she been the train robber? I doubt that. Perhaps one saving the day. I believe that one more than anything. I still believe that. She was Captain of her fire team.

“Tell me about one of these escapades!”

She mutters to herself in French then looks back at me with another smile, “One happened on Christmas when I was just a brat, couldn’t have been more than twenty when it happened!”

The story was exuberant and colorful. She spun a story of pseudo gothic knights using their Light—or well,  _magic_  out in public to save a small hundred. I could remember the gun fingers she made, the little sparks coming from the tips of her fingers as she danced around and stirred up a crowd. Yet, it made sense to me now why she had not lingered around her family. If train robberies were this common, it’d be too dangerous to have them travel!

But alas, I kept my questions to myself. Our worlds were different, grand as well as limited. She lived in a time where stagecoaches and horses were the norm whereas I witnessed the expansion and fall of a new century. The thought of Charlii being an actual cowboy made me laugh. All these Hunters dying to live that life and here one stood before them. Or were they all different across the seas?

Yet the story was worth the listen either way. It was the first time I had actually spoken to her outside of her buying shaders and leaving with a timid “thank you” or the slow conversation we’d hold while she rummaged my wares. It was the first time I had actually seen her smile.

And as days crawl past, I thought of that day. I’d see her rushing off from the elevators with her team giving out orders as they finished gearing up for transmat, but every time, without fail, she’d throw in a wink and wave before disappearing through the doors. Yet, within the same day, a package was left for me. One shoddily wrapped in colorful foil with a small card taped to it.

“Eva!” it read.

“You brought something to my attention that I had never really looked into when I was young. Our conversation was brief, yes, before the crowd appeared from my shenanigans, but I have to thank you for that. You showed me that though things were harder then, they don’t have to be now. Your kindness made me think about the company I keep and how imperative it was to hold them close this time around.

I made a family with my team and I hope to make family and friends among the vanguard—you included. I hope you like my gift. My baking is terrible but C’ai and Seven helped with making sure I didn’t set my flat on fire. (At least the cheesecake came out swell!)

Best regards and have a lovely Dawning,

Charlii.”

The cookies were delicious by the way and I hope she makes another cheesecake this year.

* * *

Vexed Cake

Mix Vex Milk, Perfect Taste, add Essence of Dawning, then bake.


End file.
